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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356600">curse of binding</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalMercy/pseuds/WhimsicalMercy'>WhimsicalMercy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MCYT December except it's not festive [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Betrayal, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Curses, Execution, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Mind Control, Piglin Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:40:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalMercy/pseuds/WhimsicalMercy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Phil… What did they do to you?” Something cracked in Phil’s eyes at the whisper and his face bunched up as if he were confused. “You don’t want to do this, do you? They’re forcing you somehow.” He watched as Phil’s face twisted and Quackity was yelling from off the stage, telling him to shut up. He glared at the other before facing Phil again, bringing his hands up to clutch at the bars and lean in close. “I know you would never betray me if you had the choice, Phil.”</p>
</blockquote>If Philza's house arrest had gone differently and he had put on the helmet that Tubbo wanted him to.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MCYT December except it's not festive [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Completed stories I've read</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>curse of binding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm so behind, it's kinda upsetting. Day 21, "Mind control". I had a lot of fun playing with the idea of the curse of binding. I imagine it's not very pleasant.</p><p>TW: Blood, Mind control, execution, villain Tubbo, villain Quackity</p><p>All characters used in this are based purely on their fictional personas. If any of the creators decide they are not comfortable with fanworks, this work will be taken down immediately to respect their wishes. I also ask that this work is not linked anywhere or intentionally shared with any of the creators mentioned.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Philza, I need you to put that helmet on.”</p><p>Everyone in the room froze, Phil staring hard at the purple gleam of the enchanted piece of iron armor that Tubbo held. He could see some of the runes and, even without them, he doubted that it was something nice like protection. He was nearly positive it was enchanted in the same way the iron boots were. Curse of binding, a book he wasn’t sure how Tubbo got ahold of. It was a nasty one, causing the armor to dig into the skin of the wearer. Leather was borderline painful and it was the softest material armor was made out of. The iron boots Phil had been given were digging into his skin as if it were trying to be a part of him, blood staining the top of the boots and soaking into his pants. He was sure that there were some bloody footprints left around as well, ones he would have to clean.</p><p>Standing was painful, the pain running up his legs every time he shifted, walking was near impossible. Part of him was happy it was just iron. He imagines that chain mail was even worse, the small ridges and holes digging into the wearer’s flesh due to the curse. Diamond and Netherite had to be enough to cause amputation just due to the harsh materials. These were just boots. Tubbo wanted him to put something with the curse of binding on to his head. It wasn’t as if Tubbo didn’t know what the curse did or didn’t know that it was painful. He did, but he still asked that Phil did this. He knew this would hurt him, definitely enough to immobilize him.</p><p>The teenager stared at him apathetically and Phil watched as Quackity and Fundy both shifted, fingers wrapping around the weapons they carried on them. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to,” Quackity said, the line familiar. Phil had been hearing it frequently, mostly from the cabinet members in front of him. They didn’t seem to understand that he wouldn’t make anything easy, not if they were going to treat him cruelly and attempt to execute his friends. They expected loyalty that they didn’t earn and Tubbo of all people should know that he wasn’t one to put blind faith in people. </p><p>They stared hard at each other before Phil nodded softly. It was a helmet, wearing the durability down would be much harder than the boots but not impossible. He had done worse before, had gone through thousands of pieces of armor. He would be able to break an iron helmet, surely. He took the helmet into his hands and looked down at the imprinted runes. As he expected, curse of binding. He also noticed that it had unbreaking on it, which would make wearing the metal down harder, but still not impossible. There were some runes he didn’t recognize, but he assumed it was some enchantment he didn’t use. New enchantments were being discovered every day, it wouldn’t shock him if there was something else that would help Tubbo keep him in check.</p><p>There three watched as Phil lifted the helmet and slipped it onto his head. The curse worked quickly, the metal biting into his skull. The blinding pain brought him to his knees and he could feel blood run down his face. A few grueling moments passed as the curse forced the metal into his skin. Just as he thought it was over, a different, more blinding, pain wracked his body. He couldn’t help the scream and the three cabinet members watched as he clawed at the metal. There was a voice in his head, ones telling him to stop fighting, to stop screaming, to listen.</p><p>He screamed in response, hands clapped over his ears and his body slumped against the floor. His shrieks alerted the person living next door and Ranboo was throwing open the front door not long after the wailing started. He stared at where Phil was writhing on the floor, then at Tubbo, Fundy, and Quackity. He could hear begging now, Phil’s voice loud in the otherwise silent house, telling whoever he was hearing to stop, that he wouldn’t listen no matter what. After all, the voice called for Techno’s death, for Tommy’s permanent exile, for him to protect L’Manberg until his final breath.</p><p>Ranboo pushed past where the Butcher Army was standing, kneeling beside his friend. He reached for Phil’s helmet only to pull back when Phil screamed louder, stumbling and falling back onto his butt. He looked at the smears of blood on his skin and shivered. Quackity stepped over his legs and kneeled down next to Phil, leaning down to speak to him. “You don’t need to make this hard. It doesn’t have to hurt as much as it is.” He says calmly as if there wasn’t a man writhing in pain under him. Phil chokes out a half sob-half scream in response, clawing at where the helmet dug into his head. <em>Give in,</em> the voices whispered,<em> just listen to him. Listen to Tubbo, listen, listen, listen—</em></p><p>He screamed again in response, trying to drown out the chanting that rang in his ears. He wondered if this is what Techno had known his whole life, not being able to think over the yelling in his mind. This was different, he knew. Techno heard thousands of voices, all clambering for various things. Phil only heard one voice, one that shouted so loud it felt as if his ears were ringing. He was sure the others were talking and had heard the door swing open, but the only thing he could hear clearly was Tubbo’s voice. He could hear the teenager telling him to calm down, to listen, to follow his lead.</p><p>He pushed back, teeth clenched. The teenager’s usually sweet voice was grating on him, telling him that it didn’t have to be like this. Things didn’t after be so hard. He screamed at them to go to hell and the yelling in his mind increased tenfold. Eventually, he felt his energy drain, his resistance slipping through his fingers. Things were starting to go black and he heard Tubbo whisper promises that he would be okay, that he would be kept safe.</p><p>The butchers watched as Phil’s eyes glazed over, draining of their blue color and turning a dark gray, the color inhuman and stormy. It was chilling to see and Ranboo sucked in a tight breath, moving to bolt out the door. He was promptly cut off by Fundy blocking the door, the fox rather impassive for what he had witnessed. Nobody was bothered by Phil’s screams, nobody was bothered by Ranboo’s as they soon followed. Tubbo only closed his eyes and turned away, gripping the enchanted gear tightly in his hand.</p><p>“For the good of L’Manberg, for the good of L’Manberg..” He whispered to himself, watching on as Quackity and Fundy cleaned both of the two up, wiping down the blood from the helmets and escorting them to the White House. They became guards, fighters, soldiers. Whatever Tubbo wanted. The Butcher army worked on recapturing Technoblade and on killing Dream. Most of the time, Phil and Ranboo were left in their own houses with instructions to care for themselves. A semblance of freedom and their personalities somewhat returned, the two laughing and joking as if their memories weren’t under a heavy lock.</p><p>By the time the Army brought Techno back, the helmets had been exchanged for simple cuffs on the wrists and the scratches on their bodies from the curse of binding had faded. Phil had been on his porch when Techno was dragged into L’Manberg, the scene painfully familiar. Instead of responding to Techno’s calls, he watched with a disinterested look. Techno just struggled more, demanding to know what had been done.</p><p>The Piglin was wrestled into a small cage, forced to his knees, and Tubbo began listing off his offenses. Of course, it would end in execution. There was no redstone or Anvil. Just the four Butchers in Netherite, Phil on his porch in similar armor and Ranboo next to Phil. Techno shifted on his knees and looked for the lever. He assumed he was being dropped into lava or drowned. Instead, Tubbo looked up at the balcony. “Philza.” He called, voice firm from months of being in office.</p><p>On command, Phil jumped his balcony and landed with a roll, armor clanging against the wood floors. He fell into line in front of Tubbo and watched the teenager blankly. Techno murmured his name a few times, only to be cut off. “Philza, Technoblade’s punishment is death. See to it.” Everyone watched as Phil drew his crossbow, loading an arrow and drawing it back, finger on the trigger. His face never dropped from its stony composure as he raised the crosshair on the bow to point directly at the Piglin’s forehead.</p><p>Techno shrunk back, eyes wide in horror as he made eye contact with Phil’s dead eyes. It was as if Phil didn’t recognize him. “Phil, you’re… you’re really gonna do this? After all we’ve been through?” He asked, pressing his hands against the sides of the cage he had been shoved into. Phil barely batted an eye. “You saved me from the Nether, we ran a country together, you helped me take over the world and it all ends here?” He’s pleading, his heart shattering. He wonders if this is what Tubbo had felt like, staring him down at the festival.</p><p>It’s different, the voices say, it’s different. He killed Tubbo willingly, knowing if he didn’t, all of Pogtopia’s best materials would be in the hands of Manberg. Phil didn’t seem to be processing what was happening. It was as if a stranger had taken over his friend’s body, using it like a puppet, like a <em>tool</em>. He didn’t even look like Phil with his frown and dark eyes. To be fair, Tubbo didn’t look like Tubbo either. Techno swore he could see horns curled around his ears. When he blinked, the horns were gone and all he could see was Tubbo in his suit and red tie.</p><p>“Phil… What did they do to you?” Something cracked in Phil’s eyes at the whisper and his face bunched up as if he were confused. “You don’t want to do this, do you? They’re forcing you somehow.” He watched as Phil’s face twisted and Quackity was yelling from off the stage, telling him to shut up. He glared at the other before facing Phil again, bringing his hands up to clutch at the bars and lean in close. “I know you would never betray me if you had the choice, Phil.”</p><p>Phil blinked a few times, mouthing his name in confusion and he nearly cried in response. He watched the older man struggle for a moment and watched despair form on his face as his grip tightened on the crossbow. He seemed to be trying to fight whatever they had done and his memories had returned even if his autonomy hadn’t. “Tubbo- Tubbo, don’t make me do this!” Phil called, unable to tear his eyes off of the arrow pointed right for Techno’s head. One slip, one word, and Techno’s blood would be on his hands. </p><p>Tubbo paused. “Philza… Wait.” The area froze as the President walked over. Phil was still unable to move and the teenager pulled the crossbow from his hands. He looked at it before shooting the arrow into a nearby post. He stared hard at the weapon and then at the executioner and the man to be executed. A weird expression crossed his face, almost contemplative as he took in Techno’s stunned face and Phil’s pleading look.</p><p>Quackity yelled in response. “Tubbo, dude, what are you doing, man?” </p><p>“Philza, use this.” The crossbow was being placed into his hands and there was a little wrapped rocket where the arrows would lay. Techno’s eyes widened. “Now, Philza.” The stage lit up in green, yellow, and white flashes, Phil’s scream echoing over the banging. As soon as the smoke dissipated, Phil’s legs gave out, the knees of his required uniform being soaked in the blood of the man he had called his best friend.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>anddddd the end, time to finish up day 22. I really want to catch up but I doubt it'll happen since I still have to circle back and do both idol AU and song fic.</p><p>As always, comments and kudos are appreciated so don't be shy!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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